The Road Not Taken
by olivermartin12
Summary: Harry chooses Draco over Ron and Hermione. Slytherin over Gryffindor. Evil over good.
1. The Beginning Of A New Friendship

"Very soon, Mr Potter, you're going to find out that some families," Draco shot a murderous scowl in Ron's direction,"Are better than others," He offered Harry his outstretched hand,"I can help you there." Harry was confused. From what Hermione had briefly explained to him on the train, he had gathered that many witches and wizards are biased towards those with non-magic parents, especially so if neither parent has magical ancestry. This was Hermione's case. Both of her parents were muggle dentists and completely oblivious to what their daughter unfortunately had in store for her. Ron however, had both magical parents and was therefore considered pure-blood. So why was Malfoy going out of his way to make Ron and his family feel like dirt? Of course. The fact that Ron was clearly wearing hand-me-down robes and had brought pre-prepared food with him should have signalled to Harry that the Weasleys were not particularly wealthy. Malfoy on the other hand, had a galleon or two to spare, as was evident from his immaculately tailored robes. Harry was in a difficult position. Ron and Hermione had been nice enough on the train ride to Hogwarts, but could he really afford to be hanging around with muggleborns and lower class citizens when the entire world expected his public image to reflect his golden boy status? He had to decide quickly, McGonagall would be back any moment and Malfoy's demeanor was one of impatience.

He stepped forward towards the wealthier boy and firmly shook his hand.

"Pleasure to meet you Mr Malfoy," Harry said with a subtle hint of menace in his voice. Malfoy tightened his grip on the other boy's hand and patted his shoulder. HIs brow relaxed and a triumphant smile began to spread across his face.

"Please, call me Draco."

Harry turned to glance back at Ron and Hermione. Hermione's look was one of indifference. She clearly couldn't care less which side he chose and why should she? She'd met him all of four hours ago. Although he didn't expect Ron to be over the moon with his apparently less than satisfying choice, Harry was surprised at just how angry Ron looked. His previously happy nature and welcoming smile had vanished, replaced with a look that for all Harry knew, actually _could_ shoot daggers. Although he reassured himself that eleven year olds probably weren't capable of magic quite that powerful. Draco introduced Harry to his 'friends', more accurately described as cronies, Crabbe and Goyle. If they had been muggles, Draco would have been the brains and they the brawn. However, in a world where the most scrawny of people could kill by uttering a few select words, brawn didn't really count for much, so they were mostly just for show. The introductions were interrupted by a toad flying through the air, promptly landing on Draco's right foot. Draco was, shall we say, less than pleased. The boy from earlier ran to remove the toad from Draco's boot. Rather than let him, Draco decided that the best way to vent his anger was by causing pain to the person closest to him, and therefore proceeded to deliver a sharp kick to Neville's face, sending him tumbling down the stairs, landing at Ron's feet. As Neville tried to stem the flow of blood currently gushing from his nose, Ron and Hermione helped him to his feet and left to find a professor. Draco then turned his attention to Trevor.

"That Longbottom really should take better care of his pet," he said maliciously as he threw the live toad into the air. He drew his wand and uttered a spell that Harry didn't recognise from his textbooks. The toad transformed into a glass goblet before his eyes and proceeded to shatter upon impact with the stone floor. Upon hearing the noise, McGonagall returned to survey the first years.

"What in blazes has happened? Where are Miss Granger, Mr Weasley and Mr Longbottom?" she asked panickedly. Draco stepped forward and altered his demeanor to one of helpfulness and innocence.

"I believe Neville had an accident with his toad. Ron and Hermione have taken him to the Hospital Wing, Professor," he explained. Harry was amazed at how good an actor Draco seemed to be. Perhaps killing Neville's toad wasn't exactly what he would have done had he been in his shoes, but he had to admire Malfoy's ability to lie. All of the other first years seemed so afraid of him that they dare'd not contradict him.

"Oh, thank you Mr Malfoy. I'm sure Madame Pomfrey will be able to fix him up in time for the Sorting."

And sure enough, Neville was back by the time McGonagall escorted them into the Great Hall. Harry walked alongside Draco, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. He could just about hear Granger talking some boring fact about the ceiling to anyone unfortunate enough to be near her. Hadn't she ever heard of just going with the flow? Harry could tell that he and Hermione Granger were going to clash, perhaps even more so than with the Weasley boy. Harry felt a hand on his shoulder, dragging him backwards and ushering him out of the way. Longbottom had caught up with Draco.

"Where's my toad, Malfoy? Please give him back! Where's Trevor?"

"By now I'm guessing Filch will be collecting him with a dustpan and brush, filth. Or if he's managed to transfigurate the pieces back again, he may have fed that disgusting thing to his equally disgusting cat." Neville turned white. Then bright red. And then the tears came. He ran at full speed from the Hall, closely followed by a concerned looking ghost. Draco was forcing himself not to laugh hysterically whilst under McGonagall's watchful eyes. Apparently unphased by Longbottom's second interruption of the evenings proceedings, she continued striding towards the chair pleaced in the centre of the podium.

"What was that spell you used on Neville's toad, Draco?" Harry asked curiously.

"It's a variation of the Feraverto spell. My father's friends have been teaching me simple Charms and Transfiguration spells for the past six months so that I'll be ahead of the rest of these morons," Draco explained. Whilst Harry tried to decipher whether he was one of the aforementioned morons, Professor McGonagall began to speak. She addressed the entire hall whilst holding in her hands a long piece of parchment. She explained the sorting process and began calling names. Ron and Neville were sorted into Gryffindor. If it weren't for Draco's continuous bashing of said house, Harry would've rather liked being in Gryffindor. Draco had however assured him that Slytherin was the house to be in, and that the other three houses isolated them purely out of jealousy. Hermione was sorted into Ravenclaw, which complimented her know-it-all nature perfectly.

"Draco Malfoy!" The hat didn't even make contact with his head before it bellowed Slytherin, much to the glee of both him and the rest of his new housemates.

"Harry Potter!" Harry stepped forward and hesitantly sat in the chair, allowing Professor McGonagall to place the Sorting Hat onto his head.

'Hmmm, difficult. Though not as difficult as I had anticipated. You're definitely brave, living with that dreadful family for so long and coming out mostly unscathed, but I sense a lot of potential in you. But not in Gryffindor. There's no war for you in which to show said bravery. No, Slytherin would help you on the way to greatness, there's no doubt about that. You're not academic enough for Ravenclaw and a recent change in loyalty tells me Hufflepuff isn't right either. Better be...'

'SLYTHERIN!'


	2. The Fall Of A Giant

The first few weeks at Hogwarts were tiresomely dull. All first years were studying the written aspects of their subjects, before moving on to elementary practical lessons by mid-November. Harry took an instant liking to Defense Against The Dark Arts, although he realised very early on that Professor Quirrell would be of little help. Draco had begun to pass on the spells his father's friends had taught him to Harry, Crabbe and Goyle. Although only Harry had had any real success. He soon began to realise that, like his father, whom he had learned about from his old teachers, he was particularly adept at Transfiguration, and he and Draco often talked long into the night about the possibility of becoming animagi. Both students had also shown reasonable prowess on the Quidditch pitch and had attempted to convince Professor Snape to let them try out for the team a year early, but to no avail.

Interactions with other houses were luckily few and far between. Apart from the odd paired assignment in Potions class, the Slytherins stayed well away from the other three houses, much to both parties delight. Draco enjoyed tormenting Longbottom about his deceased toad and Harry had finally given himself to Slytherin completely and took glee in joining in. Rumour were abundant that Longbottom's grandmother was sending him an owl as a replacement and the two revelled in plotting all number of unfortunate accidents that may befall it. Weasley often tried to defend his fellow Gryffindor, only to be barraged with his own hail of insults, many involving comparisons between himself and his vile pet rat. Though the duo knew better than to pick a fight with the elder members of the Weasley family, who were either prefects or pranksters and hated them perhaps even more so than Ron. Granger was as swotty as ever and had befriended two of her fellow Ravenclaws. Luna Lovegood, who was an utter freak and had often tried to ward off imaginary creatures called 'Nargles' that were apparently abundant in Harry's hair. Needless to say, after a quiet word with Millicent Bullstrode and Pansy Parkinson, she had been involved in a rather painful incident and was currently residing in the Hospital Wing. And Cho Chang, a vaguely pretty girl in the year above who Draco despised. But as long as those two kept Hermione Granger as far away from him as possible, he couldn't care less who she was friends with.

Harry and Draco sprang from their seats the moment Professor Binns dismissed the class, anxious to leave the excruciatingly dull lesson in favour of the Slytherin common room. As they made their way to the dungeons, they encountered Professor Snape, who seemed even more on edge than usual.

"Is something wrong, Professor?" Draco asked, genuinely concerned for his 'favourite teacher' i.e. the one who would turn a blind eye, in most circumstances.

"No, Mr Malfoy. I have merely been hearing some rather disturbing rumours and thought it best to investigate them further." Harry was intrigued.

"Like what, Professor?"

"There are rumours that a certain member of staff, who shall remain nameless, is housing an illegal animal on school grounds. I intend to either confirm or disprove this rumour before anybody starts to panic," Snape explained. Harry glanced in Draco's direction. He had the beginnings of a smile on his face, which Harry had learned was never a good sign. Don't misinterpret, Harry was as sly and cunning as the next Slytherin but Draco was on an entirely different level. He saw Harry looking at him puzzledly and simply winked at him. "Now on your way boys, I expect to see you in the Great Hall for dinner in an hour." And with that Snape strode away towards the stairs the pair had just descended.

"What was that all about, Draco? Do you know who started the rumour?"

"It's not a rumour," Draco told him as he walked towards the entrance to the Common Room, "The other evening whilst you and the two apes had Charms, I snuck out to take a look at the Forbidden Forest. But on my way I happened to pass that pathetic excuse for a hut that the bearded giant lives in. And I heard him screaming. At first I thought that Snape had finally given in to temptation and killed the stupid oaf, but then as I peered through the window I saw fire. So I snuck closer and found the stupid half-breed holding a dragon hatchling. That's more than enough to get him fired and given a one way ticket to Azkaban."

"But surely a baby can't do much more than fry a few mudbloods? The Ministry would never send someone to Azkaban for killing rats."

"Maybe not, but they would if my father got involved. If he thought for a second that I was in danger, that lumbersome giant would be given the Dementor's kiss within a week." This appealed to Harry, as Hagrid had certainly changed his attitude once he was placed in Slytherin. He was determined to make the half-giant suffer. Draco muttered the password and they stepped through into the lounge area and collapsed into a pair of black leather sofas.

"So why didn't you just tell Professor Snape in the first place?"

"Because then he would know I'd skipped class and he'd have no choice but to give me detention. Whereas this way, he finds out without ever realising who first started the rumour." Harry couldn't argue with the logic. This way, the giant would be gone and Draco would get off scott free.

"So what happens now?"

An hour or so later, Harry and Draco joined their fellow Slytherins at dinner. Harry couldn't help but notice that Snape, McGonagall and Dumbledore were missing. Half way through dessert, he found out just where they had been. They entered the Great Hall slowly, McGonagall with her head bowed trying to hide her tears. Professor Dumbledore made his way to the podium and began to speak.

"May I have your attention please, students. It transpires that our loyal Groundskeeper, Rubeus Hagrid, has been illegally harbouring a Norwegian Ridgeback in his home, and has been subsequently taken to Azkaban for questioning. I would like to make it very clear that this is not a sufficient crime to be imprisoned at Azkaban permanently, and as such I expect to hear no rumours exaggerating his situation. I am sure the Ministry will be fair in their decision and he will return shortly."

The next day, Draco received a letter from his father. The Ministry had assembled an emergency court and had tried Hagrid overnight. The result was more than pleasing to the manipulative bleach-blonde child and his black haired prodigy.

RUBEUS HAGRID HAS BEEN SENTENCED TO TWENTY YEARS IN AZKABAN. AT THE END OF SAID SENTENCE, HE WILL BE EXECEUTED BY MEANS OF THE DEMENTOR'S KISS.

Harry was ecstatic. With his status as 'The Boy Who Lived', coupled with Draco's vast wealth, nothing could stand in their way.

Rubeus Hagrid was only the beginning.


	3. Halloween

Halloween. The most celebrated festival in the Wizard calendar. In the Muggle world, an excuse for the Dudley Dursleys of the world to bully their neighbours into giving them sweets, completely legally. Well, most of the time. Whereas in the Wizarding world, it was a recognised celebration of all Magical life, except, Harry had thought to himself, Mudbloods.

Hogwarts had certainly gotten into the swing of things, decorating itself with jack 'o lanterns and cobwebs. Although some argued that the latter was down to Filch's lacklustre caretaking, due mostly to the fact that Professor Dumbledore had begrudgingly asked him to inherit the role of Groundskeeper from the luckless predecessor. It had been three weeks since Hagrid's incarceration in Azkaban and rumours were abound that his proximity to the Dementors was taking a heavy toll. Harry felt no remorse upon hearing this, in fact he was joyful. The giant who had been so kind to him, had given him his first ever birthday present, had taken him to Diagon Alley for the first time and had bought Harry his very own owl. And had then changed completely at, quite literally, the drop of a hat. He hadn't longer spoken to Harry, not even acknowledged him. In fact on several occasions he had deliberately barged into Harry, knowing full well who would take the blunt of the collision, before muttering something about his parents rolling in their graves. Harry was glad he was locked up in Azkaban. And he was even more glad that in nineteen years, eleven months and nine days, he would be dead.

Draco had promised to meet Harry in the Great Hall for dinner, as he had to speak to Professor Snape after class. Harry had made his way to the Common Room, gotten changed and was now on his way to meet him. As he walked through one of the dungeon corridors, he heard an annoyingly familiar voice.

"Potter," it was the infuriating mudblood, Granger, "Might I have a word?" She was polite but Harry knew Hermione hadn't approached him to talk about the weather.

"What do you want, Granger?" Even saying her name made Harry's skin crawl. His hands absent-mindedly clenched into fists.

"Ever since we arrived you've been less than friendly to Neville and Ron Weasley. I'd like to ask that you be a bit nicer to them in future."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll have to tell Professor McGonagall," she said in a tone that Harry believed to be one of attempted authority.

"McGonagall has no power down here, Granger," Harry had had enough of her cowardly attempts to defend her fellow classmates,"Now get back to your own Common Room, where you belong you filthy little Mudblood," Granger's eyes widened in shock, and all of her previous composure was discarded as she ran in the oppposite direction towards, Harry presumed, the Gryffindor Common Room. On her way, she nearly ran straight into Professor Quirrell, who was caught off-guard and subsequently lost his balance. His turban unravelled on the stone floor, though he seemed not to notice and began to upright himself. Harry looked at what he thought was Quirrell's face, but the features were different, less defined. As the cold eyes of the man before him returned his stare, Harry's scar began to burn as if his head had been dipped in molten lead. Harry collapsed on the floor in agony and began to scream. As Harry grasped at his forehead, Quirrell re-applied his turban and ran to the young boy. As the pain subsided, Harry was sure he could hear Quirrell talking to someone, but the voice sounded muffled..

"He has seen too much. What shall I do, master?"

"The boy has chosen Slytherin, he will be willing."

"Are you sure Master?"

Harry struggled to his feet, still holding his head as the pain ebbed away. Upon hearing him rise, Quirrell turned to face him.

"W-what's wrong, my b-boy, are you alright?"

"Who was that you were talking to, Sir?" Harry had said it without thinking, which, after hearing the anger in the other's voice, was perhaps not the best course of action. Quirrell sighed. This was not what he had wanted at all. He had thought this day wouldn't have come for many years.

"Someone that you've met before, Potter," Quirrell stepped closer, lowering himself to kneel face to face with Harry,"Lord Voldemort."

"Lord Voldmort, Sir? The man that killed my parents? But he's dead."

"Not anymore, Harry. I have been nursing the Dark Lord back to health and have been sustaining him by means of Unicorn blood. But I am about to acquire something that can ressurrect the Dark Lord permanently. The Philosopher's Stone."

"Sir, why are you telling me this? If I told Professor Dumbledore, you'd be sharing a cell with the giant in the darkest corner of Azkaban."

"But you won't Harry, I know you won't. I have known since the moment you were placed in Slytherin that you will be of great use to the Dark Lord."

"But he killed my parents!" Harry half-bellowed. Quirrell raised his hand over Harry's face, muffling any sound that came from him.

"Be quiet, boy! Your parents fought against the Dark Lord, like many others, because they feared his power, not because, as you have been told, he is evil. Our Lord merely realised that the Darker traits of Magic were also the more powerful and decided to harness them fully. Any man or woman who raise their wand against him was as weak as they were stupid. The reason Lord Voldemort targeted your parents in particular, was because of you, the one person in existence with the potential to defeat him. But now that you have chosen the path of a Slytherin, you can serve the Dark Lord rather than feel his wrath! The things you could learn, the power you will wield, think of it Harry! Together, we can restore the Dark Army to it's former glory!"

Quirrell made a convincing argument. Voldemort had killed his parents, but he never really knew them. And with the power of the Darkest wizard who ever lived, Harry would be free to seek vengeance on those who tried to take advantage of him. His vile Aunt and Uncle for one. And especially Dudley. He would make sure he would be the first to die. Or maybe it would be more poignant to force him to watch his parents die first? And no doubt Professor Dumbledore had great plans for him, using him to defeat the Dark Lord, only to take all the credit later. No. Harry controlled his own future, and the only foreseeable moment Dumbeldore would be a part of it was as he dragged his lifeless body before Voldemort,taking his place as his second in command.

"What about Draco, Professor?"

"Draco's father is a close follower of the Dark Lord, and was once what is known as a 'Death Eater'. Draco will no doubt follow in his footsteps. Rest assured, he will not be harmed."

Harry's mind was made up. He would serve Lord Voldemort with his best friend by his side. Forever.

"What must I do?" Harry asked. Was there an initiation ritual? A virgin sacrifice? Harry had wanted to cut open a Muggleborn, to gaze upon the colour of their blood.

"Make your way to the Hall, Mr Potter, and wait for my signal. I have a troll to catch."


	4. Potions Class

This was it. Harry and Draco's first lesson with their new Head of House, Professor Snape. From what Harry had been told, Snape was a nasty piece of work who luckily favoured his own house above all others. The class made their way into the classroom and quickly tried to acquire the best seats, Gryffindors as far away from the front as possible and Slytherins as close. Weasley, in his infinite ignorance, had sat at the front, a bulgar scarlet amongst a sea of emerald. Harry soon corrected this, barging Ron out of the way causing him to fall to the floor amongst his second-hand textbooks. Granger hurried to help him up, whilst Harry ushered over Draco and began organising his own textbooks. Weasley shrugged off Hermione's attempt at assistance and turned to scowl at Harry.

"What the bloody hell is your problem Potter? If it wasn't for my mum you wouldn't even be here!" Luckily for Ron, Professor Snape hadn't arrived yet, or else Gryffindor's ourglass would have been severely depleted.

"I know Weasley, and the fact that I had to receive assistance from your family of all people sickens me. I won't make the same mistake twice. Now get to your seat before Snape catches you!" Ron realised how lucky he was that Snape seemed to be late and took a seat at the back next to Neville.

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

"You were kind to that filthy Weasley."

"I told him how much his family sickens me!"

"And then you convinced him to go back to his seat before Snape arrived! Now the Gryffindor and Slytherin hourglasses will be as close as ever."

"Not quite, Mr Malfoy." A quietly menacing voice echoed through the room as Professor Snape emerged from his hiding place in the shadows. He was dressed head to toe in black robes and had long, greasy black hair. His face was indifferent, not dispensing a single emotional response. "Five points from Slytherin for purposefully barging into Mr Weasley, Potter. Twenty points from Gryffindor for raising your voice in my class and being out of your seat, Mr Weasley" Hermione rose to speak. "But sir, Potter clearly provoked-" "Ten points from Ravenclaw, Granger. Leave the heroics to the Gryffindors." The rest of our first potions class was uneventful, aside from Longbottom very nearly requiring a trip to the burns ward of St Mungos. As he and Draco were about to leave, Snape placed a bony hand on Harry's shoulder. What had he done wrong?

"Might I have a word, Mr Potter?" Snape asked, clearly having no intention of allowing Harry to leave until he had done so.

Draco then spoke up, "But sir, if we're late for Transfiguration Mcgonagall will kill us," the disdane for the head of Gryffindor clearly audible in his voice.

"Which is why you, Mr Malfoy, will be heading to Transfiguration whilst Mr Potter and I discuss something not for your ears. Now leave," Snape ordered, though not nearly as harshly as he would a member of any other house. Looking anxious and defeated, Draco glided out of the classroom, his billowing robe strangely mirroring that of the Professor Snape's. 'Must be a Slytherin thing,' thought Harry.

"Take a seat, Mr Potter," Snape said as he sat behind the desk of his chambers, "I must ask you. What do you know of your mother and father?" Harry thought this rather an odd question, but felt it best to oblige the young potions master. It wouldn't do to turn an ally into an enemy on such trivial grounds.

"Not much, Professor. I was raised by my aunt and uncle who told me they died in a car crash. But then Hagrid told me about...You Know Who," Snape seemed to shudder at the mention of the dark lord. Harry noted that, as it seemed very out of character for such an emotionless and stern man.

"Indeed. I ask only because I knew both of your parents. Your mother was graceful, beautiful and a credit to muggleborns everywhere. Your father was a swine," Harry didn't know how to react to this. He had never really known his father, but his early memories were ones of a loving father who apparently made the ultimate sacrifice to save his life. How Snape could tread all over that in one sentence slightly angered Harry, though for obvious reasons he kept such negative emotions to himself. Ten years of being beaten by the Dursley's had made it almost second nature.

"I must confess, Potter, I was most intrigued to find you in Slytherin house. Both of your parents were Gryffindors, after all. Was it out of choice?"

"Yes, Professor Snape."

"Might I ask why?"

"Because both of my parents were Gryffindors. And both of my parents are dead. Bravery is only as good as the wizard who shows it."

"You show wisdom far beyond your years, Potter. It is refreshing to see amongst your brain-dead classmates."

"And the day I share a dorm with a Weasley is the day hell freezes over."

"Personal feelings over your fellow students should not factor into such an important decision, Mr Potter. Slytherins are cunning and are masters of manipulation. I have observed many of these traits in you. And I eagerly look forward to monitoring your progress."

"Thank you, Professor."

"Now go, and give Professor Mcgonagall my apologies for making you late."


End file.
